


emotional complexities of paranormal encounters

by qrovers



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, Love Confessions, M/M, Reunions, ghost!troy, inspired by troy dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qrovers/pseuds/qrovers
Summary: Three years after he left, Troy finds himself outside Abed's studio in L.A. But when Abed does see him, he makes it a point to actively ignore him.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 28
Kudos: 172





	emotional complexities of paranormal encounters

**Author's Note:**

> blame twitter for this

It's like when you get out of the pool after an hour and everything is wobbly and you know you're on dry land but there's that phantom feeling like you still have to keep afloat. You hold onto LeVar Burton to steady yourself because you can't believe it. You can't believe that the trip is done and you have to say goodbye to your childhood hero after traveling the world with him. 

That's how Troy’s feeling, both physically and somehow emotionally. It feels like the sea is still below his feet, the waves crashing and the tides are turning and he pinches his arm to make sure he isn't dreaming. He feels floaty, like his brain and his heart are still trying to process the last few years. His heart is especially beating out of his chest, mostly because he’s standing right outside Abed’s film set in LA. 

A week ago, when he docked on a beach near here, he didn't even know that Abed had moved. He was supposed to go to Colorado and meet up with Pierce’s lawyers but then he saw a big billboard about a TV show created by one  _ Abed Nadir _ while walking on the boardwalk. A quick Google search found that he was currently filming the new season right now. 

Troy basically jumped up and down in excitement when he knew because _holy shit_ _my best friend is famous_ —and then that excitement turned to saddened confusion because he didn't _know_. And he used to know everything about Abed, but now he doesn't, and it was pure coincidence he even got to see the billboard.

Here's the thing, Troy kinda lost all communication with the study group after getting captured by pirates. 

The pirates weren't nice  _ at all _ . No fun Captain Hooks or lovable Jack Sparrows. All they did was spit overboard and bring them their leftovers. They wouldn't let him send letters or emails, and for months—like  _ months _ —Troy didn't know what was happening outside the dingy pirate ship he and LeVar were trapped in. It made him worried and dizzy and a whole other flood of emotions he wouldn't get into right now. When they were freed by the Nicer Pirates (who were kinda like the rival gang of the Not Nice Pirates), Troy wrote and sent so many letters to his family and friends. 

But no one ever responded. 

The pirates stole his phone so he had to buy a new one in Japan. When he got it, he tried to call the only number he memorized, Abed’s, only to find out it was disconnected. 

He’s trying not to be bitter about it, even though he really is. It's easy not to dwell on it too much when he's pushing it down. He missed them so much the feeling sunk to his bones he became accustomed to it, and he used to lie awake at night wondering how they were doing, especially Abed. He told himself to get rid of that ache by visiting them first and  _ then  _ getting mad later. 

But even so, he scoured the internet to learn the when and where Abed would be, and he sprinted to it when he saw that it was close. 

So here he was, standing awkwardly in front of a building where Abed would be filming. People are bustling past him, not sparing him a second glance, which isn't surprising since he tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. 

It’s about 8:30 pm, he checked his watch. He searches the crowd while tapping his foot impatiently. While he was in the Childish Tycoon, he used to daydream how he and Abed would reunite. He’d think of movie scenes to recreate that Abed would appreciate. Maybe he’d dock to a port where he’d be waiting for him. Or maybe the study group would reunite for him when he drives up to Greendale. He told himself a month into the journey to not get too excited and only start organizing the reunion when it's close, but after the pirates, those daydreams get blurrier with months of silence. 

And Troy wasn't sure if he ever felt more alone. 

Someone coming out of the building and almost walking into the thinning crowd pulls Troy out of his thoughts. The man stops in his tracks almost immediately. He’s lankier and his hair is longer. He has stubble on his chin and bags under his eyes. But there's no doubt in Troy’s heart that that's—

“Abed!” He says, his voice overflowing with honey-like happiness. 

Troy hasn't seen him for so long, his eyes are watering at the sight. He's feeling a cacophony of emotions he couldn't even imagine if he tried. He takes a moment to soak in the sight of Abed after 3 years. His hair is curlier the way it does when it's overgrown and Troy tries to cut it in the bathroom when they're saving money. He's wearing a  _ Back To The Future _ shirt he didn't have before and worn-out jeans that bunch up at his ankles. He's holding the strap of his messenger bag, the leather fraying at the edges. He looks the same, but still a little different. Like his face matured but his eyes are still full of glitter. 

They look at each other for what feels like a long time. The crowd around them has dissipated, leaving the two of them in relative silence. Abed just stares at him, eyebrows knit together. Troy used to know what that look meant, but now he's not so sure. 

After a few moments, filled to the brim with love and enthusiasm, Troy decides to take a step forward, arms outstretched for a hug.

And then Abed backtracks, blinking hard. Troy falters, and his heart drops when Abed sidesteps and walks  _ around _ him, leaving him alone without a word. 

That excitement and fondness explode into something else. Something that makes Troy want to scream. 

He follows him into the crowd across the street, heart still bursting but with a different flare. The emotional whiplash gives him a surge of motivation. 

He’s not shouting at him or anything, because he's giving him the benefit of the doubt and isn't trying to embarrass him. Maybe he's tired. Maybe he didn't see him despite staring at him for what felt like forever. Abed probably has an explanation he’ll tell him in a concise and cohesive way. 

But Troy’s still kinda very mad. 

Abed walks and Troy follows, calling after him. There's a part in the back of Troy’s brain telling him to lay off, to get the signs Abed doesn't want to talk to him. But he’s actively ignoring that part because the anger he's been pushing to the bottom of his stomach is coming back twice as strong, it's making him woozy. It starts to get to him. 

He shouts, “Abed!”

And, for a split second, Abed falters, proof he heard him. That gives Troy’s anger hope. But then he shakes his head and shoulders on, going inside a building that, what Troy assumes, is his apartment building. 

He's about to stop following, to let himself cool off. But Abed holds the door open a little longer, as a silent plea of asking him to come in. He’s looking at his shoes, eyes unreadable. 

Troy softens and enters the building. 

When they get into the elevator, his anger has relatively cooled down (he was never good at harboring it anyways) and is replaced with a growing worry. He stands next to Abed, but there's a significant amount of space between them. He nods, okay, not getting closer. 

He's more confused now, and kinda sad. This was not how his daydreams went. 

So he asks, “Are you mad at me?” even though he knows there's nothing to be mad  _ about _ . 

Abed takes a deep breath and shakes his head, eyes trained to the elevator doors as it opens. 

When they get to his apartment, which is nice but a bit smaller than their old one, Abed still hasn't said a word to him. He makes a beeline to his kitchen and prepares buttered noodles once they enter, which Troy can't help but smile at.

He surveys Abed’s home. The walls are covered in movie posters, ones he’s seen before and a handful he hasn't. There are coffee cups and energy drinks strewn everywhere, especially near stacks of paper which, if Troy is guessing right, are drafts for scripts and plot outlines. 

“Can't you talk?” Troy asks, surveying the apartment. “Did you defeat a troll doll or something?”

Abed doesn't respond. When he gets out of his kitchen with a bowl in hand, he sees Troy on the couch. 

He’s staring at him. Abed’s staring back, with something sad (but hopeful?) in his eyes. Like he's sad Troy didn't disappear while he cooked but happy he stayed. He blinks, then puts the bowl on the coffee table. He rubs a hand over his face as he sits on the couch. But even after all that, Troy’s still there, eyeing him with concern, a distance between them. 

“Abed, what’s going on?”

He ignores this and mutters to himself, “Maybe it's the summer heat. I did lose a few nights of sleep this week,”

“ _ Abed, _ I know you can hear me,”

And he finally looks back at him, his eyes starting to get glassy. “I shouldn't be talking to you.” He finally says. 

Troy frowns, “Why not?””

“Because I’m not crazy.”

Softly, voice coated in worry, Troy says, “What do you mean?”

There's a pause, Abed’s trying not to cry, Troy can tell. He takes a deep breath but it hitches and he tries for another. The next few moments are filled with heavy silence, like it's preceding a confession, words that never left his lips before.

Then he says, “You're  _ dead _ , Troy,” like he hasn't said it before. 

#

Troy blinks. An idea pops into his head.

“Pushing Daisies?” He asks, and Abed lifts his head up and looks at him confused. 

He guesses another one. “Sixth Sense?”

Abed shakes his head. “Not a reference.”

Oh. 

“So, I’m a ghost?” That explains that lack of responses. But it raises far more questions than answers.

He remembers how his trip ended, on the dock in LA during the sunrise with him _ very much _ alive. He bought a soda from the vending machine near a supermarket two days ago and held it in his hand until he threw it away. He talked to the librarian when he asked for a book. He was seen and heard, so he couldn’t be dead.

But Abed says, “We had a memorial for you. About 730 days ago.”

“Really?” His interest peaks. He always wanted to hear about his funeral. “Cool,”

He wonders how many people came. Wonders what the playlist was, if Abed kept their pact. He wonders what Nana Barnes felt, if she was still alive. He used to think about it when he was in high school all the time, when he thought he'd die like a shooting star. 

But all that curiosity is eclipsed by Abed’s face right now, pained and despondent in a way he’s never seen before. And Troy realizes that, as cool as it is to come back as a spirit, it's obvious he's been haunting his best friend. 

He does the math in his head. He's been dead for well over two years, within the months of his capture. Everything kinda falls into place like puzzle pieces. The months he’s been silent and unmoving in the Gulf of Mexico had led his friends to thinking he died. He wonders who told them, and hopes it wasn’t Abed.

Troy feels guilty, even though he knows Abed wouldn’t want him to. It wasn’t his fault, but his heart still aches at the thought.

Abed stays silent, wringing his hands on his lap anxiously. He’s not looking at Troy and is instead staring at the TV in front of them, despite it being turned off. 

Troy’s definitely not dead, he knows this. But still, he pinches himself again to be sure. 

He's sure. 

But he knows Abed's not, so he doesn't say anything for a while, trying to think of how to solve this. He thinks of ways to prove he’s not a ghost without touching Abed, who’s made it abundantly clear from the space between them that he needs some time to process this. Ideas bounce off in his mind until he gets one so perfect, he almost looks up to see if there’s a lightbulb glowing above his head. (There isn’t.)

Troy sits and turns to Abed, who mirrors his gesture stiffly. Troy says, “In movies, ghosts usually appear because they have unfinished business, right?”

And Abed gives him a little smile. He nods.

“So, let’s figure it out, why I’m here,” he pauses, “But, first, can I watch your show?”

#

The show is called _ Clones _ and it's about space pirates. 

Abed gives him a cautious glance as he explains the premise. Troy shrugs and says, “Nah, it's okay. Some pirates are pretty cool,”

Abed keeps the DVDs of his show in the cabinet under his TV, out of display, unlike his two awards, which Troy grins at, displayed proudly on a shelf next to it. The two wins are as follows: an Emmy for  _ Outstanding Comedy Series _ and  __ a Golden Globe for  _ Best TV Show _ . 

He makes a mental note to search on Youtube for Abed’s speech in both award shows, ignoring the slight pang in his chest when he realizes he couldn’t watch him from the theater. 

There are currently 3 seasons of  _ Clones _ , and they're halfway through the fifth episode of the first when Abed says, “What do you think your unfinished business is?”

“I don't know. Maybe it's watching your show?”

He shakes his head. “No, that wouldn't make sense to your character arc. Your trip around the world should’ve rounded you out more as a character and shaped your identity. One of the reasons you left is—” his voice goes quiet, “—because of me.”

A beat. 

He continues, “So it doesn't make sense for that to be your motivation,”

Troy says, “You're right. If heaven existed, it would have  _ Clones  _ on and I can watch it from there.”

That earns a snort out of Abed. Troy smiles at him fondly, only half-paying attention to the TV.

The thing is, the whole unfinished business idea isn't  _ just _ from the various movies Troy used to sneakily watch before sleeping. 

When he and LeVar were captured, and he genuinely thought he was gonna die, he cried on LeVar’s shoulder as they sat below deck with their hands in ziplock ties. LeVar had listened to him sobbing for what felt like hours, offering what sounded like empty promises.

“You're not gonna die, Troy,” he said, voice hoarse from being parched for days. Troy looks up at him and tries to muster up enough air to speak. 

“It's not dying I’m scared of,” he said, then paused, picking the words of his next sentence carefully, “I’m scared I’ll never see Abed again,”

It was then, when he chose to specifically mention Abed and not, you know, his whole family, did he realize something he thought he realized way too late. Something he should've realized before getting on the boat. He thought about how the way his heart murmured in his emotional breakthrough, and how it felt wasted on his numbered days. 

All LeVar replied with was, “Oh,”

And that was what Troy was thinking too.  _ Oh. _

He told himself that if he survived the pirates, he'd tell Abed his epiphany, his feelings, because life’s too short to be scared of taking chances. But that was when he thought his body would be sinking down the ocean after a week, he didn't actually expect to be saved.

When he was, that urgency floated away like a boat at sea. He no longer repressed his feelings once he learned about them, he wasn't even good at hiding emotions, but started being more open about them to LeVar and to himself.

But, now, sitting on Abed's sofa with all the time in the world, he's choosing not to say anything. Because he's still scared. He’s scared he’ll fuck everything up, even if he shouldn't. 

So he took the opportunity to be a ghost to force it out of himself. 

Troy glances at Abed and asks, “What do  _ you  _ think my unfinished business is?”

Abed looks at him. Throughout the night, they’ve inched closer together on the sofa, testing the waters. They're still far enough that they have to move to touch, but Troy puts his hand  _ right next _ to Abed’s. If he lifts his pinky, he could— 

“No touching,” Abed whispers, so quiet Troy almost doesn't catch it.

“Why not?” But he has an idea why.

“If you pass through me, then it's confirmation that you're not real,” Abed says, voice thick, “and I want this to be real for a few more hours.”

#

The only sound for a while is the dialogue from the TV. There are three main characters in  _ Clones _ , Troy notices. Each of them has a sprinkle of Abed, him, and even Annie, into their character.

There’s a character named Ego who has his emotions bottled up. Not in a metaphorical way, but in a way that he has a glass bottle full of liquidated feelings. He reminds Troy of Abed. In the pilot, Ego is an awkward and calculatingly observational star pilot, but in a weird lovable way. He always seemed to watch from the outside, from his ship. But the episode playing right now is giving the character a bit of focus, especially when he has an A-plot including a character called Beefy, who he seems to have a crush on. It's funny, because Troy relates a lot to Beefy. He wonders how much this is taken from real life. 

There's a scene where, right before Ego gets to tell Beefy how he feels, Beefy gets sucked into a wormhole into another dimension. 

The camera pans from Ego’s terrified face to the contents of his messenger bag, a steady shot shows his glass bottle of emotions. It cracks ever so slightly.

The episode ends with cheery credits. 

Abed looks at him. His eyes are soft, but Troy can tell that he’s thinking about something. He answers, “Maybe you had some things you didn’t get to say before you left.”

Troy realizes he’s answering his question, of what he thinks his unfinished business is. 

He mulls over Abed’s answer. It's not so far off, but he doesn't think it's fully focused on him. He asks, “Are there things you never got to tell me?”

A pause. 

Abed nods, “I never gave my eulogy,”

Troy's heart breaks a little. 

He continues, “It didn't feel right. I wrote it for you but you would never get to hear it.”

“Well, I can hear it now,”

There are phantom words on his tongue,  _ If you want me to listen. _

But Abed doesn't let him say it, because he's standing up and walking to another room. He emerges out with an orange moleskin, the edges of the notebook fraying from overuse. He sits back down, running his hands on the cover, staring at his feet as they fidget. 

“I’m not good with talking about my emotions,” Abed says, “Annie told me it might be easier to write about it. It wasn't,”

A pause.

“Until I started writing to you,”

Putting it on his lap, Abed feels the edges of the notebook and skims through the pages, looking for something. Troy sees unfinished drafts of letters Abed never sent, hidden away against the pressed pages of a moleskin. 

Troy can't say he doesn't relate. After the pirates, he bought a tape recorder in a thrift shop in Germany. His late nights consisted of boring his soul and heart out to a mic, love confessions to Abed no one would hear but himself, as he overwrought the tapes with stupid anedocts in the mornings after. He wishes he hadn't, realizing it's easier for Abed to listen to tapes rather than it is to say all of it again, but there's nothing else he can do. 

Abed finally finds what he's looking for, a crumpled page bookmarked by a folded corner, and takes a deep breath. He glances at Troy, who's patiently waiting for him to start. No rush, he’s not leaving anytime soon.

“Dear Troy,” Abed starts, “You’re my best friend. Hanging out with you was easy, natural, like watching TV. I remember you in Spanish, when I first invited you to the study group. You were wearing a letterman jacket and you sat diagonal from me. When I asked you, I thought you would fit perfectly in the group of lovable misfits I was creating. In what seemed like a  _ Friends _ type ensemble, I imagined you’d be Joey.”

Troy crinkles his nose at this.

“And, now I know that you don't like Joey,” Abed says, a small smile on his face, “You told me that when we watched reruns in my dorm. In all honesty, I thought we wouldn't have any storylines together. I thought you and Pierce would get closer, have a Beavis and Butthead type of friendship. I was so used to watching from the outside, I didn't realize how close we’ve gotten until you asked to move in with me. And I got scared, I’m sorry. I didn't want to jump the shark and lose what we had so early.”

His breath hitches. He takes a deep breath. 

“But the thing is, you're not Joey, you were never Joey. You were—You're Troy Barnes. You showed me that I wasn't  _ meant  _ to be an outsider. You showed me how to be a part of  _ something _ . Of conversations. Of jokes. Of  _ Troy and Abeds in the Mornings. _ ”

“Halloween 2010 is getting less foggier in my mind, a scene of you from the window, telling me you love me. No one’s ever said that to me before. I’m sorry for not telling you how important you are to me. I’m sorry for not saying it back.”

There’s a pause.

“I love you, Troy.”

When Troy realizes it's done, his eyes are glassy and sobs are climbing up in his throat. Tear tracks run down his cheeks as he wipes it with his jacket sleeve. Unbeknownst to both of them, halfway through the eulogy, Troy had slipped his hand in his, their fingers fitting together as natural as it did the first time they held hands, in the dark, at the cinema, watching Toy Story 3 as Troy cried into a tissue in what wouldn't be the last time. 

Troy doesn't trust himself to speak right now, the lump in his throat making it harder to make out the words. When he realizes where his hand is, he squeezes Abed’s to let him know they're touching, loose enough that Abed can slip out any time. He doesn't. 

Troy tries to show the fondness spilling all over his heart in the squeeze, trying to tell Abed that—

“I love you too,” slips out of his lips. His eyes widened, it had come out so easily. But he says it again, with a bit more confidence, “I love you too, Abed.”

And Abed squeezes back. Troy smiles. It felt unreal, having the whole world in the palm of your hand. It was warm. 

A moment passes before Abed pulls him in and hugs him.  _ Furiously _ doesn't seem to describe it accurately, but the passion in furiously is there, holding him tightly.

He hugs back after he gets over the initial shock. He puts his hands on Abed's back and rests his head on his shoulder. “I’m here, buddy,”

Abed replies, “I know,”

They stay like that for a while, the murmurs of LA replacing the would-be silence. Abed’s warm and smells like hot chocolate and cologne. After a beat, Abed pulls away ever so slightly, making Troy’s heart skip a beat. 

He has his hands on Troy’s shoulders and he's looking at him kindly, fondly,  _ lovingly _ , the way he does when he thinks Troy’s not looking. His expression is so soft, Troy feels like he’ll melt if Abed wasn't holding onto him. 

When he thinks he's leaning in for a second hug, Abed does something else entirely. 

He kisses Troy.

And Troy, with all his heart and longing, kisses back. He cups Abed’s face in his hands, not wasting another second not touching him, showing him that he's real. 

That they’re real. 

That they're in love. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> btw i have sitcom twit now! follow me @/trobedcore  
> kudos n comments are appreciated :D


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